How to Lose a Sword
by Kitty O
Summary: The problem was, there was a naked woman in Merlin's room. And that wasn't a problem in the way you might expect. Transformation!fic, crack!fic, no slash, may be continued. Set between series 4 and 5.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I really don't have much of a plan. I don't know anything. I don't even know if I will continue this. If I did, it would be some misadventures and some clothes-stealing… Cracky stuff of the like. If you want me to and have a suggestion, let me know.**

* * *

The problem was, there was a naked woman in Merlin's room.

Gwaine would of course simply laugh if Merlin were to tell him that, naturally, and ask where exactly the problem existed: was she unattractive?

So perhaps to say the problem was that there was a naked woman in Merlin's room was incorrect. After all, a woman was not a problem, simply a person. And her lack of clothes was probably natural; after all, women did not come with clothes. Those were acquired. Her location was… unfortunate. Gaius was just downstairs. And Merlin was not accustomed to having naked women in his room, anyway. Partly because Merlin had always lived with an older adult, partly because he had only gotten over his fear of girls several years ago (okay, a decade), and partly because Merlin wasn't really over Freya yet. Also, when did Merlin have time to make a lady friend? Yet that was still not the problem. (The lack of time to make a lady friend _was_ a problem, sort of, but it wasn't _this_ problem.)

Nor was the problem that she was unattractive, because she wasn't. The little of her figure that Merlin had seen before he had cried out and lifted his eyes towards her face was fine; she was thin (perhaps too thin in places) but well shaped. She had flawless, almost shiny skin, and golden hair that framed her face like a picture. It was too short to belong to anyone of any standing (or reputation, really), but it fit her thin, cunning face. Her eyes were dark, a little like Guinevere's… or Guinevere's father's… Which was fitting, considering he was her creator.

Yes, that was the problem.

The problem was that this naked woman wasn't supposed to be a woman at all. She had previously been, and most assuredly still should have been, a sword.

One moment Merlin had been sitting there on his bed, Excalibur in his lap as he wiped the blade and whispered magic words, hoping to speed the cleaning process. The next, he was throwing the sword away as it began to shimmer… And then erupted into a full-grown woman.

"Oh gods," Merlin said at once. "What have I done?"

The woman put her hands on her hips (or at least Merlin assumed that they rested on her hips; he did not look down to verify) and said, "Done? What do you mean?" Her voice was like metal ringing out against metal. Like a blacksmith's tools clanging. Loud, high, clear. But dangerous.

Merlin went pale. "This is bad," he said. "This is really bad."

"Bad?" she repeated. Then her brow furrowed. She looked like Arthur when he was worried. She moved her body, standing like a warrior. Merlin nearly fainted. "Is something attacking Camelot? Is there a battle?" She started for the door.

Merlin stepped in front of it.

"No," he said. "No, there isn't." His eyes started to drift down, and he closed them. This was ridiculous. "We need to get you clothes."

"Clothes?" Excalibur said in equal parts confusion and indignation. She had a serious echo effect going on there. "My sheath? While there is a battle on, a fine blade like me cannot be sheathed! I must fight."

"Um, no, we're gonna sheath you," Merlin said, diving for the raggedy blanket on his bed. He held it up, started to wrap it around her, and stopped when he realized he would have to touch her. Instead he held the blanket out awkwardly.

Excalibur stomped her foot adamantly. "At a time like this? Perfection like me cannot be covered!"

And it was at that exact moment that Merlin realized exactly how much trouble he had gotten himself into. There was no way this would end well.


	2. Chapter 2

When she tried to push past him and leave his room, still naked as a bird, Merlin finally gave up and forcibly wrapped the blanket around her.

"Knave!" her voice rang out as he stuck his arms under hers and then spun her around, tucking the blanket in. "You are keeping me from battle!"

She turned back around again the moment he released her, and with fury in her brown eyes, she brought her hand down in a slicing motion towards Merlin's shoulder. Her palm hit with a crack.

She froze and looked at her hand.

Merlin stopped and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow," he said reproachfully.

"It didn't work?" she said in confusion. "I was sharpened last week!"

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked, suddenly realizing that the cracking sound hadn't come from his shoulder, but rather her hand. "That sounded like it hurt."

She looked at him and then at her hand. "I am in prime condition," she said at last. "I should not fight when my edges are dull—I do not wish to break." Then she seemed to light up. "Is this why you did not wish me participate in the battle occurring? You are going to sharpen me and return me to the king?"

Merlin opened his mouth to say no. Really, he was going to tell her the truth and hope for the best. But then he caught himself. Did he really want to explain to Arthur's sword that he had magic?"

"Excalibur," he said, "do you recognize me?"

She nodded at once. "You are Emrys, the creator and brother."

Brother. Brother was good. He could work with this, then. He cleared his throat. "Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Yes, I am going to need to fix you and return you to Arthur," he said.

"Fix me? Am I flawed?" She looked honestly worried, looking down at her makeshift "sheath".

"No," Merlin told her. "Just… need a bit of fine-tuning. You are certainly no good to Arthur unsharpened, right? So, you just stay here… And I'll go run out and get the supplies I need. And then I'll be right back."

Excalibur watched him leave with furrowed eyebrows.

Merlin ran out of the room, shutting his door behind him, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, and then turned and saw Gaius staring at him. Straightening his back, Merlin tried to appear every inch a dignified, collected servant of the king who saved the country every couple of days and totally knew what was going on in his life.

"Merlin, was I hearing noises in your room?" Gaius asked. "Are you entertaining company?"

The warlock put on his most winning smile. "Um, no, it's all fine… All fine." He took a deep breath. "Don't go into my room, alright, I'll take care of her when I get back."

And then he ran for the door, just the sound of Gaius asking, "Her?" left in his wake.

Merlin was thinking furiously as he went. He had maybe ten minutes before Excalibur grew bored and wandered off. He needed to steal the sword a set of clothes and find out what exactly he did to turn her into a woman.

Who was he kidding? He totally did not know what was going on in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Excalibur knew a good deal. She was pretty sharp (or she thought so, at least). After all, the hands that made her were gentle and wise. She had been in ferocious battles. She'd been breathed on by a dragon. And she had been in the armory when the knights came in and heard their conversations.

Hardly appropriate for a woman's company, but she was a warrior and she could deal with it.

So perhaps it was simply her own observational skills that it obvious to her… Or perhaps Merlin was just rather stupid, which wasn't impossible considering he had once thrown her into a lake and left her there for years.

But it seemed to her that he had missed the very important fact that she was no longer a blade, and rather a very human woman.

She probably should have mentioned it actually, but the sorcerer looked just so determined to fix her and return her to Arthur. Besides, she wasn't really used to speaking up. It wasn't her job to fix herself. It was her job to win battles.

And it sounded Arthur needed her.

And she would never abandon Arthur when he needed her.

She smiled to herself, a sharp, thin smile, thinking of Arthur. Her golden king. And still smiling, she walked out the door of Merlin's room and down the stairs. She would go to Arthur. Merlin would either find her or she him. It didn't much matter. Merlin knew how to find her. He'd done it twice. (You know, after dumping her in a lake and then stabbing her into a damn _rock._)

She wondered if Arthur would notice she was a woman now and try to have it fixed.

Probably not, actually. He was a great king but he was less observant than Merlin.

She shook her head as she hit the bottom of the landing and started for the door.

"Excuse me, miss."

She looked over, and there was Gaius, staring at her with his eyebrows about even with the ceiling. She looked at him silently, blinking slowly (blinking was weird, and she hated it).

Several seconds past; at last she shrugged and started to continue on her way.

"Miss."

She stopped again. Well, why did he call her if he didn't want to say something to her? Maybe he wanted a response? She would try that.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice sharp and clear and rude.

He looked down. So did she, noticing that she still had her sheath wrapped around her.

"Why were you in Merlin's room?" Gaius at last asked.

She thought about it for a moment, not used to having to answer for herself. Usually Merlin and Arthur did all the answering. Mostly Merlin, that is.

"He was cleaning me," she said at last, and without waiting for another question, she left, storming through the door, still wrapped in her makeshift sheath, and leaving the physician standing there with his hand clutched to his heart and the thought in his head that he and Merlin _really_ needed to have a talk.

She left and headed straight for Arthur's chambers. He, at least, would probably act normally.

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**A/N: I have affection for this chapter! Haha, well, thank you so much for reading! **


	4. Chapter 4

"Sir?"

Merlin looked up innocently. "Yes?"

"Are you trying to find something?"

The merchant was a fat, aging man who looked a tad too greasy to deal with the clean cloths, but he had a friendly smile, and he didn't yell at Merlin for fingering his merchandise, so Merlin liked him.

Merlin blinked. "Um, cloth?"

The merchant tried to smile. "Yes. But do you have anything in particular in mind?"

"Yes, something an overworked servant can afford. I don't suppose," Merlin said, looking nervous, "you have any ready made dresses?"

"No, sir. I'm afraid your lady will have to make it herself…Unless you sew!" He chortled.

"I do," Merlin said grimly. "But I don't have time for that. She could be running around naked as we speak."

The merchant stopped smiling. "She has no clothes?"

"She didn't exactly come with any."

The merchant looked for his wife over his shoulder. "In that case, you might just want to ask for spare clothes."

Merlin put his head down. "I'm not asking the queen. She already thinks I'm strange enough."

The merchant looked more and more confused.

"Of course," Merlin said reasonably. "I guess I might not have to ask. I wouldn't need it for a very long time."

"Um…." Was this man suggesting the queen's clothes?

"No," Merlin said. "You're right. I've been caught doing that one too many times. My best bet is to ask one of the female servants."

"Well…"

Merlin patted the man on the shoulder, looking relieved, if exhausted. "Thanks for your help," he said, and turned, walking away, leaving a bewildered and vaguely concerned merchant who was wondering if he was about to be an accessory in a textile-taking crime.

* * *

Excalibur was searching the castle for her king.

She clutched the blanket around herself as she ran, thinking perhaps it was best that she remained sheathed. After all, the lower classes might panic if she were to be uncovered before them. They depended so much on peace where they could see it.

Besides, they were already staring at her. This was not unexpected. They always stared at Arthur when he walked by, and why should she be any different? Perhaps, though, she thought with embarrassment, they had noticed how shoddy her sheath was. Or perhaps they had noticed that she was no longer a sword. After all, not everyone could be as oblivious as her magical brother and kingly master.

She thought she knew where Arthur's room was, so she took that route, hurrying along. He probably needed her, though maybe he didn't know it. He never did.

Besides, she had to admit she was a bit excited to meet Arthur in this form. She had a mouth! Arthur liked mouths, didn't he? He was always touching the queen's (Excalibur's sister's), and talking with Merlin's. He would be quite excited to see hers, she was sure. Hers was pink. She'd looked in a mirror. (Oh, it wasn't as dignified as her sword form. She'd much prefer to be metal, of course. But still… it was exciting!)

By the time she reached Arthur's room, she was quite enthusiastic.

"Arthur!" she yelled brazenly, jumping inside without knocking.

The king, who had his back turned to the door, jumped, spun around, knocked into his bed, and reached for his sword which was not there, all in one fluid motion.

At the sight of a thin woman with short blonde hair wrapped in a blanket, his eyebrows rose. "What?" he said stupidly.

"I'm here!" she said.

"I see that," Arthur replied, looking for his sword.

"I've got a mouth!"

"Um…" Arthur blinked. Had one of Gaius's patients wandered in here? Someone should be guarding this person!

"You need me for battle!" she yelled, lifting her arms. Which caused her blanket to fall off.

Arthur's expression changed to one of horror as he stumbled backward away from her. Not to be dissuaded, she threw herself at his leg, latching on.

And at the same time, the door to the king's chambers, and the queen's rich voice cut through the air.

"_Arthur?"_

**A/N: I was reminded that this existed earlier by my friend, so thank her for my update. Also, if you watch Doctor Who, I wrote a oneshot recently that very few people saw, so if you have interest in looking at that… please do!**


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